Taste of Ambrosia
by MewSara100
Summary: Two weeks shouldn't have been long. In immortal terms, it was barely a blink. For Aziraphale, it was an eternity. How could he protect Crowley, if the demon insisted on disappearing? Only to return hungry and demanding, and needing his angel's touch. Needing to coat Aziraphale in Ambrosia, Crowley is determined to catch his lover before worry destroys them both.


"You know, Angel…now really isn't a good time."

He straightened, the verbal slap bringing him up short. Crowley, with his mischief and playful flirtation, had never taken that tone. Not with him. Frowning, Aziraphale gripped the edges of the tea tray in both hands.

God have mercy, he was amazed he'd yet to spill a drop.

Of course he'd blame it on the demon. In reality, he'd found his own temper in the last decade or so. So much so that Crowley's sharp brushoff couldn't stand.

It wouldn't.

"You disappear for weeks without a word, Crowley. Not a single demonic post-it note." Hearing the soft click, he glanced down at the rippling surface of the teacups. Not a drop out of place. No chipped cups or broken handles. Because he couldn't say the same of demonic hospitality, he straightened. It wasn't an impressive height, but it did wonders for his confidence. 'Blast it all, now isn't the time for tea time conversation.'

To his credit, Crowley didn't argue the angel's point. Instead, momentarily taken aback by Aziraphale's pinched expression, he smirked. No one but his angel would take his sneer for anything but face value.

Cursing inwardly, if only to spare his angel's sensibilities, Crowley sauntered deeper into the study. Like it's owner, the shop hadn't changed. He'd stopped asking himself why it mattered. Why he should care about an angel's feelings, or his god forsaken bookshop.

Except he did…as much as a demon could care.

A truth that made avoiding Aziraphale that much harder. "Angel, long time no see!" Catching the minute stiffening of Aziraphale's spine, Crowley slowed to linger a breath from the shorter immortal. He'd be lying, if he said he wasn't itching for a fight. 'You could get him good and mad. He's cute when he's mad.'

The images came unbidden, filling his head with his angel in every state of heated temper. He wanted to kiss that temper away, as he'd kissed so many of Aziraphale's hurts in the past. 'Satan knows he's kissed plenty of mine…'

No… No, that wasn't right. His fellow demons had put him in this foul mood. Not his angel.

"Long time indeed," Aziraphale snapped, resisting the urge to cross his arms. Anything to distance himself from the demon that loomed over him. Any closer, and the intoxicating draw of the fallen angel would become a drug. The single unescapable fire that would draw him as a moth to flame "Do you know how worried I was? Well?"

"Any hotter, angel…and I'd think you've fallen." He gasped, mockery twining with growing sensuality as he covered his mouth. Catching the telltale fire in Aziraphale's cheeks, he bent until he could meet the shorter man's eyes over the rims of his glasses. "There's a lot you've got to learn, if you're going to darken your pretty wings. Demons don't worry. The ones that do end up dead."

The silence that fell was, in a word, explosive.

Sucking in a breath that filled his senses with the redhead, Aziraphale fought back the wave of insult the words had elicited. It was the rise Crowley expected. The fight the fallen angel had come for.

But Aziraphale wasn't fallen. He might not be angel of the century in Gabriel's mind, but he was an angel. And that meant something.

"You do, Crowley…" Another pause, this one expectant. When Crowley said nothing, Aziraphale rushed to continue. "Worry, I mean." Against his better judgment, he gave in to temptation. To Crowley. Reaching with both hands to cup the demon's handsome face, he eased into the careful separation of their bodies.

He'd been weeks without Crowley, and survived. With that logic, shouldn't he indulge himself in at least a moment of sinful temptation? 'No,' he thought. 'He's safer if I'm not tempted…' Willing himself to meet Crowley's slitted eyes, he mustered a watery smile. "God knows I worried. You're never gone that long anymore. Not with things as they are between Heaven and Hell."

"Angel." He snapped it, arms coming around the shorter immortal a second before Aziraphale could pull away. Narrowing his eyes behind his glasses, he bent until a hard thought would connect their lips. "Worry wouldn't kill me. I fight back, and I'm left to my devices." To his angel. "Your side doesn't have that understanding. The minute they smell your worry is the minute you fall."

And, as much as he enjoyed tempting Aziraphale, he knew his angel would never live with himself in the dark. "One of us has to shine light out of his ass, and it might as well be you."

"I refuse to dignify that lewd suggestion with a response. Instead," Aziraphale stepped back, relief brightening his expressive face as he turned his back to the demon. "We'll speak of it over tea. Your last cup grew cold, so I prepared another. I hope—"

Familiar arms encircled him, stopping him in his tracks before he could turn and face Crowley again. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he watched helplessly as the tea at last escaped its cup.

"It'll come out, angel." Trailing skilled fingers down the front of Aziraphale's beloved jacket, Crowley smirked. Leave it to his angel to cry over spilled tea. "I'll fix us both a spot of tea tonight. My treat." Stifling a wave of laughter when his angel brightened, Crowley dipped his head to press a kiss to the pulse in Aziraphale's throat.

As if a stained jacket were the biggest problem in front of them.

"And the priceless teacup you made me drop?" Not truly seeing the shattered cup through the haze of lust rising in him, Aziraphale tensed. A blink, and the porcelain sat whole and steaming with tea on the tray once more.

"Another demonic miracle. I'll add it to your tab, angel." Crowley smiled against his angel's neck, nuzzling the unprotected flesh before gripping Aziraphale's coat in both hands. Enjoying his position at the angel's back, he drew the well-loved fabric down Aziraphale's arms to pool at their feet. It hit the floor a second later, the tea-stain a distant memory. "Kneel on the sofa, angel. I need to make sure he didn't touch you."

"He? Crowley—"

"I wouldn't put it past Gabriel not to try something while I was away." As he spoke, Crowley eased his angel onto the lip of the couch. "Hands on the couch, Aziraphale."

"I-I hardly think it necessary. I am an angel of standards, and Gabriel…Gabriel isn't my type." Heat and indignation washing through him, Aziraphale turned his head. Where another angel would have argued at the command from a demon, he obeyed. The well-cared-for sofa was soft under his hands, where he gripped the back. Uncaring that it left him exposed to Crowley's gaze, he dropped his forehead between his hands.

The release of control was exhilarating, though he'd never admit it aloud. 'As long as Crowley is here.' With him.

"Not your type?" Smug satisfaction in the words, Crowley knelt to brush his knee between Aziraphale's spread legs. Undoing the man's vest and shirt with deliberate slowness, he hummed. "Exactly what is your type, angel?"

"You."

The silence this time was brief, as Crowley discarded Aziraphale's shirt. The sight of the man's exposed skin did nothing to ease the already throbbing proof of his hunger, as he traced nimble fingers down his angel's smooth back. Would his angel mind terribly if he marked it? Just a few scratches.

Proof of his claim, in case Gabriel got…curious.

"Me, angel?" Taking Aziraphale's sharp indrawn breath as a good sign, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the angel's pants. "You must have worried, if you aren't chastising me over tearing your trousers."

"Tearing my—"

The fabric gave way on a sharp hiss, as Crowley held out the shredded remains. "I don't have your divine control, angel. I've been weeks without you, and I'm hungry."

"Crowley…I can't very well hold you like this."

"Later, angel. Let me get my fill of you first." Despite himself, the thrill of his name on Aziraphale's lips undid the first tangles of hidden worry. Worry he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge, for fear of his angel.

Understanding, Aziraphale arched into the heat at his back. If this was what Crowley needed, he would give it. "Show me I'm yours…"

It was all the permission Crowley needed. Bending over the pliant angel, he drew the shorter man's hips back against his own. Thrusting through the layers of his own clothing, he drank in the first of Aziraphale's soft moans. He knew better than to rid himself of the layers just yet. If he did, he wouldn't be gentle. Wouldn't hold back.

After weeks of being apart, he had the good sense to prepare his angel's sweet body.

"Spread your legs wider, angel. Let me see all of you." Pleasure rippled through him, seeing Aziraphale comply. Circling the fingers of one hand around an exposed nipple, he allowed the other to continue its descent. Finding his angel already painfully hard, he bared his teeth to drag across the back of Aziraphale's neck. "Good, angel. Very good. Be a dear, and stay where you are." Squeezing once with the hand around his angel, he slid off the couch.

In his haste to return to the bookstore and its divine owner, he hadn't forgotten the important things. Gazing down at the ornate bottle in his palm, he turned to drink in the sight of his angel's unguarded back and naked ass. Noting the edge of petulant impatience on his angel's flushed face, he held out the glass bottle. "I won't hold back, angel. The least I can do is take the edge off, first."

"A drug? Those don't work on angels." Confusion cut sharply through the cloud of lust, as Aziraphale studied the bottle over his shoulder. Whatever it was, it was old. Nothing he'd seen in the shops and markets of the modern world.

"Human aphrodisiacs won't," Crowley agreed, before returning to the comfortable spot between Aziraphale's spread legs. Giving the bottle a shake, he watched the golden liquid slosh lazily inside. "Ambrosia, on the other hand… It's potent stuff, angel."

"Amb… Crowley, where did you find such a thing! Gabriel himself wasn't entrusted with a vial." He knew his mistake, the moment the words left his mouth. Biting back a hiss of pleasure and pain as Crowley's fingers dug into his hip, he arched into the touch. "Don't be daft, Crowley. You know what I meant."

"As long as you know to whom you belong, angel. I don't share."

"Funny," Aziraphale breathed, hips moving in time with Crowley's lazy strokes along his shaft. "Neither do I."

"Angel, you surprise me." Laughter in his words, Crowley tightened his grip on Aziraphale's cock. Unable to tear himself from the contact long enough, he closed his teeth around the bottle's cork and pulled. Opening on an audible pop, the pale liquid darkened to resemble honey. "Hold out your hand, angel."

Intoxicated by the heady scent of demon, and the sweet pull of Ambrosia, Aziraphale lifted a trembling hand to the study's golden lamplight. Before he could protest, the amber liquid rushed over his hand in warm rivers that clung to his fingers. "Are you certain this is—"

"I want to see you play with yourself, angel. Show me where you want me."

Sucking air through clenched teeth, Aziraphale tested the amber liquid. Thick like honey, but smooth. "It smells like you."

When Crowley said nothing, Aziraphale dared a glance over one shoulder. The demon, slitted pupils veiled by glasses…was blushing. Beaming, and trusting Crowley's eyes remained on him, he drew his slicked fingers to his entrance. Never in his wildest fantacies had he considered doing something so…sinful.

Not until Crowley.

Subtle discomfort tightening his muscles, he pushed in with a finger. Weeks apart, and his body had begun to crave the demon. Even then, he hadn't dared touch himself. Unlike his kin, Aziraphale's control was finite. Breakable.

The moan came unbidden as his body grew accustomed to the sensation. Thrusting with the slick digit, he fought not to rock his hips in rhythm. If he did, he wasn't sure he would last long enough for Crowley to devour him. "Is this…enough?" Panting around the words, he slid the finger out before adding a second digit.

"More, angel." Having positioned himself behind Aziraphale for a better view, Crowley palmed his own throbbing erection. Even through the tightness of his slacks, he could feel himself beginning to strain. "Bring yourself to the edge for me. We'll fall together tonight."

"And if I don't?"

Pleased by the soft edge of challenge, Crowley brought a casual hand across Aziraphale's flawless ass. The shuddering moan, when it came, was music to his ears. Crowley grinned. "Then I drag you to the depths of depravity, kicking and screaming. Either way, angel…you'll fall for me tonight. Add another finger."

Drowning in the pain and pleasure sensations the slap elicited, Aziraphale pressed two fingers inside. He couldn't be certain if his body was becoming used to the pressure…or if the Ambrosia was doing its job. Either way, the heat building low in his body refused to lessen. Biting down on the side of the hand not thrusting into himself, he fought not to moan.

Not to embarrass himself by letting Crowley hear him in such a state.

For his part, Crowley merely watched. Able to feel the precum the sight provoked, he dared free himself of the confining slacks. A snap of the fingers, and the fabric was gone. Though, for both their sakes, he remained in his boxers. Better to savor the sensations. "Good, angel. Real good. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

God, when had Crowley gotten so kinky? 'A foolish question,' he decided. When had Crowley not been kinky? The demon's very essence was sex and violence. Releasing his grip on his balled fist, Aziraphale swallowed hard before speaking. "I want you to fuck me, Crowley. I need you inside me…please."

"Always so polite, angel." Crowley sighed, straightening to position himself behind Aziraphale once more. "Both hands on the couch, angel. I want your ass in the air." He would accept the small submission from the gentle man before him, with the understanding that his angel had given him a gift.

He gripped Aziraphale's hip in a hand, the other circling the ridge of his erection where it pulsed, hot and thick. Enjoying the color he watched rise in Aziraphale's neck, Crowley bent to kiss the spot just behind his angel's ear. The expected shudder, added to the angel's obvious need, was euphoric to his every sense.

"Hhaaa!" The exclamation was out before Aziraphale could stifle it, the hot intrusion giving the pleasure the barest edge of pain. Before, he would have cursed this human shell for its fragility. They'd been apart only weeks, and he'd grown unused to such…attention. Now, he arched into the sensations, willing his muscles to relax around Crowley as the demon pushed.

Aziraphale hadn't lied, before. What had begun as lust had quickly become need, until even the small pain meant nothing beside it. Aware he continued to moan under Crowley's attention, he dropped his forehead to the back of the couch.

"Say my name, angel. I want to hear it on your lips while I fuck you." Darkly sensual words, as Crowley finished pushing himself inside his angel. Giving Aziraphale's ass another casual smack, if only to watch color overtake the creamy perfection, he sheathed himself to the hilt in his lover.

"Crowley! Oh fuck, Crowley!" Jerking under the sudden force, Aziraphale cried out before clenching around the demon. The delicious fullness was breathtaking, until he could do nothing but suck air between moans.

"Good, angel." Tight. His angel was so fucking tight. Drawing back, until only his tip remained, Crowley reached to take his angel's pink nipples between his fingers. He thrust home a second time, before drinking in the surprised yelp from the man under him.

"Crowley! Oh God, Crowley!"

"Your God isn't here, angel." Satisfaction in his tone, he growled before dropping his hand from Aziraphale's hardened nipple. Finding his angel impossibly hard, he trailed long fingers up the rigid length before pausing at the tip to gather the beading liquid there.

"C-Crowley!" Aziraphale's shout, muffled by the fabric of the couch, did nothing to slow Crowley's pistoning hips. Certain he'd lose his mind under the ruthless pace, and needing to feel the friction of Crowley's hand around him, he brought his hips back against the demon's thrust.

Pleasure exploded in waves of color behind his closed eyes, as the dual sensations rocketed through him. Finding himself more than ready to match the brutal pace, he found his own rhythm beneath the demon.

Whatever he'd expected, this hadn't been it. Fisting Aziraphale tighter in his free hand, he danced with his angel. Gave the shorter man pleasure, even as he demanded it.

His angel didn't disappoint.

Somewhere amid the frenzy, the angle changed. Lifting Aziraphale's leg in order to thrust deeper, Crowley bent to trail biting kisses along the angel's exposed throat. He had a moment to register Aziraphale's shocked moan, before the angel's muscles clamped hard around him.

"Crowley?!"

"Oh fuck!" On a shout of his own, Crowley lifted Aziraphale's other leg until the man lay suspended in his hold. Ignoring the expected protests from an angel known for his modesty, Crowley lifted his lover from the safety of the couch. Never slowing his breakneck pace as he guided Aziraphale's body up and down his length, he smirked before switching their positions.

Blinking open eyes gone molten blue with pleasure, Aziraphale drank in the room at large. The study, crammed as it was with towers of well-loved books, was as familiar as it was embarrassing. Before, he'd had the safety of the couch to mask his embarrassment.

To muffle his moans.

Now, bracing his hands on Crowley's legs while the demon sat on the couch, he found a new pace atop the demon's hips. "Crowley, what-"

"Ride me, angel. Show me how much you missed me."

The sting of the slap, when it came, was familiar. Pulling himself together enough to squeeze as he lifted his hips, he drank in Crowley's growl of pleasure. "I won't last much longer, if you keep this angle."

"Will you come while riding my cock, Aziraphale?"

The jolt of pleasure that struck him had teeth, as Crowley finished speaking his name. Feeling himself twitch under the demon's stroking hand, he almost expected to slip his human shell entirely.

Because surely no human body could contain so much sensation.

"Only if you come inside me, Crowley."

The unexpected request had the last shreds of control slipping through the demon's fingers. Tightening his grip on Aziraphale's cock, he thrust up hard with his hips. He would be spilling himself inside his angel. Of that there was no question.

More, he would bring Aziraphale to his pleasure at the same time. Feel his angel spasm helplessly above him, as they rode out their joined climax.

Fisting a hand in Aziraphale's hair, he arched the man's throat to press hungry kisses to the candy-sweet pulse he found there. Crowley could taste the vulnerability on his tongue, his demon's instincts demanding they take advantage.

He bit hard, meeting Aziraphale's falling hips with a final, deep thrust. Enjoying the way his angel's fingers spasmed on his knees, Crowley moaned into the softness of Aziraphale's neck. Felt the fiery proof of the angel's passion coat his fingers, as he spilled himself deep inside.

Crowley was there to catch the angel, as Aziraphale lost his balance to fall backward. 'My fallen angel,' he thought as they sucked air into human lungs. 'I'm here. I'll catch you.'

"You won't fall alone this time, Crowley."

Blinking back his confusion, Crowley angled his head to see the angel in his arms. Had he spoken the thought out loud?

Blue eyes, still glowing with inhuman fire, met Crowley's without flinching. Seemingly unaware of the minute change, Aziraphale smiled before reaching to trace Crowley's cheek with feather-light touches. "I'll fall with you, demon mine."

The endearment, so much like the one he used for Aziraphale, had something unknown loosening inside him. "Keep talking, and I'll have no choice but to take you again…and I'm fresh out of Ambrosia to cut the pain."

The angel's weary smile brightened, as he sat up to remove himself from around Crowley. Noting the demon's slight frown, he bent to kiss the corner of Crowley's mouth before settling against his side. "It's enough that I wear your mark on my neck. I don't think we'll survive, if we fall so soon after the first."

As much as Aziraphale had enjoyed the sting of pain with the pleasure. A distinctly devilish blend he'd known with Crowley. Only ever with his demon. "You've been in the basement for weeks, Crowley. Let me coddle you, and then we'll fall again."

Coddle him?

"What are you, my mother?" Frown deepening as he studied Aziraphale's face from behind his shades, Crowley tightened his hold on the angel. "You knew where I'd gone, and you let me go?"

"I'm not your mother," Aziraphale confirmed, before tracing a thoughtful hand down Crowley's collarboneand to his chest. "But as your guardian angel—"

"Self-proclaimed," Crowley cut in.

"As your self-proclaimed guardian angel," Aziraphale agreed. "It's my job to be here when you need me… Whatever you did in the basement, you needed to do it." And he wouldn't ask questions, if Crowley wasn't ready to answer them. "I might not like it, but I can't stop you."

He could, Crowley thought. His angel was perhaps the only person, angel or demon, who could stop him. That he didn't was a small, precious gift. One Crowley treasured. Needing to erase the worry in Aziraphale's shining eyes, he tightened his hold until the angel glanced up at him.

"Do you want to know why I went?" He owed the angel an explanation, at least. Catching barely hidden curiosity spark in Aziraphale's eyes, he smirked before sliding his shades away from his face to lie on the table nearby.

No barriers between him and his angel. Not tonight.

"Besides finding the Ambrosia, you mean?"

"Besides," Crowley agreed. "I went in search of answers." Seeing the confusion in Aziraphale's sweet face, his smile gentled. "If I fell, shouldn't there be a way to rise?" To redeem himself, for the sake of his angel?

"Crowley, that's-"

A finger to Aziraphale's lips, as Crowley continued. "I'll never again fly with Gabriel and the rest. My hatred for the Almighty and her shining throng hasn't lessened, angel… But I'll clean the smut from my wings, if it's the last thing I do." Idly, he fingered the discarded feather on the cushion beside him. Likely a forgotten remnant of Aziraphale's beautiful white wings. "I would dance with you in the sky, the way only angels can dance."

"And did you?" Excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, Aziraphale felt his own wings spread. Felt them wrap protectively around the demon he called his own.

Releasing the feather in order to caress the inner arch of the wings themselves, Crowley's smile took on a bitter edge. "No…but I know where to look. Say, Angel…how would you feel about breaking into Heaven with me?"

"Tea first, Crowley. Before it gets cold. And then…" A mischievous smile, as rare as it was stunning. "And then, we break into heaven."


End file.
